In Another's Words
by Conan15
Summary: Series of one-shots about the Divergent Universe based on quotes. Stories are better than the summary I promise.
1. Those Who Know the Worst

**Summary: I am writing a series of one-shots about the Divergent Universe with the assistance of a variety of quotes. Some will be pre-determined. Some, I hope, will be suggestions from readers. I do not own the rights to the Divergent trilogy nor spoke these quotes originally. Nearly all events contained will follow the timeline and plot created by Veronica Roth. And with no more ado, here is Chapter 1. Please enjoy!**

Chapter 1: Those Who Know the Worst

_"__We love those who know the worst of us and don't turn their faces away." _

– Walker Percy

"Tobias?" Her voice was unusually deep for one so small the rational part of my brain observed as the irrational portion went haywire over just how good my name sounded when it was spoken reverently for the first time in years; especially when it was spoken by her. For the umpteenth time in the past half hour, I wished that we weren't in such a setting so I could soak in this moment when she took my very essence off the shelf, dusted it off, and claimed it as hers. However, my father had never been a man willing to wait in reality let alone as the star in my worst nightmares. "Tobias?" He echoed in a high pitched voice that sounded nothing like hers before his features hardened in time with the paralysis that was spreading throughout my veins and encasing my muscles in what felt like liquid nitrogen or molten lead. "This is for your own good." With those ill-fated words, my father multiplied and circumvented me as the metaphorical lead hardened and froze me there in place with the strength of the fear that I still felt at the sight and sound of him systematically and sadistically removing his belt loop by loop. As the gray leather snake slithered across the color behind him, all of the hims involved, my heartbeat began to gallop in my chest as my brain screamed at my legs to fight or run and all they did was remain there motionlessly pathetic and ineffective as if my veins and arteries had indeed been filled with lead rather than blood.

The belt smacked against Marcus' hands painfully enough to make me close my eyes in mental preparation for that same sting on my own tattooed and scarred back. But the pain never came, instead came the wince of pain of a familiar female voice; hers. Both my eyes flew open in surprise at this and I saw the belt looped around her arm as she jerked it away from the sadist. Her action drove me from inaction into my own action as I pulled her behind me and took up my fighting stance.

Suddenly the scene lifted and I was stolen the first chance I ever had to beat my father for all the times he'd hurt me. At that moment it was mostly for hurting the only girl who had ever made me truly come alive, but, in hindsight, it was probably better that I didn't get to hit him because becoming anything like him was the worst possible nightmare for me. Tris was saying something but I couldn't focus on it and just looked up at her, which I suppose, must have answered her question because she grew quiet afterwards. Shaking myself from my thoughts, the fatigue of going through my fear landscape hit me harder than normal and I pulled her close and leaned into her for the first time not caring what she would think of the contact. Physical contact was nothing after seeing the worst parts of a person.

Rather than pull away in disgust or give me that hurt puppy dog look, she loosened up quickly and leaned back into me as a support and closed her gray-blue eyes as she hummed comfortingly. Without meaning to, I leaned down and pressed my forehead against hers and breathed her air in deeply to calm myself. In turn her thin arms wrap around me and my body felt electrified by the touch. "Tris?" I regretfully asked after a long moment of this and she stopped humming before opening her eyes and meeting mine. "Yes?" She replied as I searched her eyes carefully for any speck of the pitying kicked puppy look that I so disliked. Finding none and feeling as confused as ever, I suddenly felt an un-satiable urge to kiss the bird-like blonde in front of me. This was not a new feeling for me however this was the first time that I found I truly couldn't ignore the commands of my brain and my lips seemed to move of their own accord as my head moved up and I pressed them lightly to her forehead.

"Thank you." Her eyes flew open in response and gave me a puzzled look as I whispered the words against her skin. "For getting me through my fear landscape." The explanation seemed to still confuse her as she pulled away slightly and my heart leapt in fear of losing the physical contact that was calming and healing. "But I didn't do anything really, I was just there. It was all you." She explained and I had to try hard not to roll my eyes at that, she had no idea the kind of effect that she had on me, really people in general but mostly me.

Looking at her carefully, I strived to take in every aspect of her pale face framed by her long blonde hair. Those gray-blue eyes that demanded my attention shone brightly in the dim light of the room; they had come alive with the power that she had gained from being brave in the face of fear. Moving down from her eyes, I focused on the light dusting of freckles that barely were visible and coated her nose in light brown dots. Some may call her nose out of proportion and it probably was however it did not bother me in the least. Below her nose was her lips, a light rosy pink at the bottom that turned to a bright red right where her lower and upper lip met. As I watched, she bit lightly at her lower lip and the red was suddenly explained. What was not explainable, however, was how much I wanted to connect my mouth with hers. There was a fire boiling inside of me as I stared at those lips and it was then that I decided to take a chance despite the part of me that was suspicious of who could be watching. To hide my shaking hands, I brushed a bit of her silky blonde hair behind her ear and left my hand there cradling the side of her head carefully. I was still afraid that I might break her. Leaning forward again, I brushed my lips against her check as near as I dared to those tantalizing lips. Her skin was soft against my chapped lips, better than any chapstick.

Her eyes closed tightly as she leaned her head into my hand and sighed with relief, at least I hoped it was relief. If it was disgust than I had a huge problem on my hands because I had fallen too far to pull myself out of this relationship. Her tiny hand reached for mine and I clasped it tightly in mine. Surely, surely she wouldn't do that if she didn't feel something, anything, for the man in front of her. Bringing myself to pull away from her, I watched as her eyes opened at the lack of contact and looked up at me waiting to see if I would dare to go further. Now was not the time nor the place for that due to the location evoking thoughts of my status as Initiation Instructor, the fear landscapes, and my sadistic father's legacy of abuse. Separating myself completely from her embrace, and ignoring the sudden cold where her hands had been previously, I kept my hand wrapped around hers and used the space to force my brain to think of a place that was private and not reminiscent of anything that this room symbolized. "Come with me, I have somewhere to show you."

With that she nodded and I slipped my fingers betwixt hers as I led her from the hellish room. Her body was inches from mine and I became hyperconscious of every step of her feet and the way that her hip knocked into mine when she tripped over her own feet. The side of my leg felt like it was on fire just from that second's worth of contact. She too must have felt the same hyperawareness, because she shivered slightly when I ran a finger across the back of her hand in a motion I had seen Zeke use with Shauna. It made my stomach do flip flops at the idea that I could make her shiver with pleasure at a mere touch. "So…" She interrupts my thoughts and I glance up from where I've been staring at our matched step. "Only four fears?" Back to safe ground then with Initiation and fear simulation talk. "Same then and same now." I paused as I considered revealing to her when she might deem to be masochism but ended up admitting it all the same, this wasn't a secret really in comparison to what she'd seen just moments ago. "I keep going back in there but nothing changes and I haven't made any progress in the two years I've been here."

"You physically can never be fearless because you still care about things," like her, I care about her a lot, "like your life." And that too I suppose. I guess it was my turn to answer and as fine as I was with the quiet, I gave in and spoke in my naturally hoarse voice. "I know." Two word answers were always easier especially considering that words not ought to be wasted unnecessarily. By now we have reached the hidden path that leads to the river and I sigh with relief, no cameras can reach here. She asked a question about my results and I diverted her attention carefully with only a tell tale scratching of the back of my neck that revealed how uncomfortable I was with the subject. Glancing over at her as she demanded that I tell her my results, I smiled despite myself at her stubbornness. It was one of our most similar qualities and I loved her for it.

By now we have reached the river and she is distracted by the sight in front of her allowing me a moment to collect my thoughts. After a moment of her wide eyes and open mouth taking it all in, I led her to the ledge and pulled her down to sit beside me. Her sitting on my lap itself would have been perfect however the Abnegation part of my brain feared it as I'm sure hers did too. Intimacy was hard for people like us. Releasing her hand, I finally explained the reason for my inability to give non-ambiguous answers, "These are things I don't tell people, you see. Not even my closest friends." No one ever knew any of this all at the same time and willingly with my consent. I felt closer to her than anyone else and this incredibly terrified me because she now knew the worst parts of me and I still didn't even know for sure how she felt about me because she too was vague and feared intimacy so neither of us were ever going to bluntly ask. "My result was expected. Abnegation." Being open was one thing, all my secrets in one night was pushing it.

She sighs in response and sounds disappointed, does she judge me for why I left Abnegation? "But you chose Dauntless anyway?" This girl is smart, I know she is, what is she trying to dig up with this question? My dad is now common knowledge to her. "Out of necessity." I'm returning to ambiguity and I know I am but I cannot help it, old habits die hard after all.

"Why did you leave?" Judgment, that's what this is; she judges me for abandoning my faction because I was scared. Turning my face, I look at the ground and analyze the patterns on the stone and the few scratches that cover her combat boots compared to my scarred and busted ones. "To get away from your dad." Finally, I took a chance and looked up at the girl in front of me and was taken aback by the lack of judgment in her eyes. A surge of hope goes through my chest as one of Abnegation sayings come to mind and confirms that at least my feelings are what I think they are. "We love those who know the worst of us and don't turn their faces away." Echoes throughout my thoughts causing me to lose focus momentarily

The tiny girl asked another question but I could only focus on the beginning that asked about being a Dauntless leader. "I've always felt that I don't belong among the Dauntless at least not the way they are now." Her gray-blue eyes meet mine in surprise as she looks at me in surprise at my statement. "But you are incredible!" At that my heart beat sped up and I watched as she blushed at her forwardness. To tell the truth, I blushed too because no one had ever thought me to be attractive before because in Dauntless my lean muscle, intelligence, computer skills, and narrow tall build was nothing compared to the other males. It was clear that she was trying desperately to backpedal and I gave her the chance even as the blush grew redder on my face. "I mean, by Dauntless standards. Four fears is unheard of. How could you not belong here?"

At this I shrug slightly as I lean back on my hands in an attempt not to do any unintentional touching. "I have a theory," I begin thinking of her in front of that target, "that selflessness and bravery aren't all that different. When you've been trained all your life to forget yourself, it becomes your first instinct when you're in danger. Abnegation could just as easily have been my faction." Her nose wrinkled at that idea as she believed the misconception that she was not capable of being selfless. "Maybe for you but I left Abnegation because I wasn't selfless enough." That makes me laugh, not my fake gruff laugh but a hoarse rumble that travels through my chest and bubbles up my throat. Once I've calmed enough to speak, I can't keep the smile off my face as I start, "That's not entirely true. The girl who let someone throw knives at her to spare a friend, who hit my dad with a belt to protect me - that selfless girl, that's not you?"

For awhile we flirt there and I lean close until I cut the distance between us in half. When she leans forward and we're sitting there with our faces only inches apart, I decide that I cannot wait any longer and whisper, "I watched you because I like you." She starts to shape the syllabus for my nickname and I shake my head as I recall how my body had felt when she called me by my real name. "And don't call me 'Four', okay? It's nice to hear my name again." Her blush still surprises me because she seems too strong to be phased by mere words. I wasn't lying when I told her that she looked tough as nails after all. "But you're older than I am F- Tobias." With that I smile, she'd making me smile a lot more than I ever have, because in Dauntless age is just a number, it doesn't dictate anything even in this new crueler Dauntless. "Yes, that whopping two-year gap really is insurmountable, isn't it?"

She is growing more flustered by the second and I'm worried that she's just making excuses at this point until she speaks again. "I'm not trying to be self-deprecating. But I just don't get it. I'm younger, I'm not pretty." With that I laugh because she had no idea that just a look out of the corner of my eye is enough to make me want her like I've never wanted anyone before. I want to look at that face every day, memorize every line and color, kiss those lips until they're as chapped as mine but mostly I want to, need to, protect her. Even after all my inhibitions, she thinks that she isn't worthy of me when it's really the other way around. "Don't pretend, you know I'm not. I'm not ugly, but I am certainly not pretty."

That Abnegation self-doubt strikes again and it kills me the way that this perfectly brave and selfless person doubts herself because of it. I desperately want to, need to, convince her of how brave, selfless, and gorgeous she is in my eyes but Rome was not built in a day and stubborn people like us don't change our minds in a day. "Fine. You're not 'pretty', so?" My chapped lips press lightly against her cheek because I truly cannot resist any longer. "I like how you look." Unmeaning to, my voice had dropped an octave at this point as I whisper the words against her cheek. "You're deadly smart and brave. And even though you found out about Marcus, I'm not getting that look like I'm a kicked crying puppy or something."

"Well, you're not." She states bluntly and I can't control myself as my lips move down her jaw line to her cheek and I press my lips to hers in all the wrong ways. Kissing wasn't exactly something they taught at school or in Initiation. Despite this, it was the best feeling of ecstasy I have ever felt. Vaguely I'm aware of my hand caressing her face but I am hyperaware of her hand tentatively reaching up and resting on the back of my neck. Pulling back to catch my breath, I placed my other hand on the opposite side of her face and was about to pull myself back in when she beat me to it and pressed her lips to mine. That moment alone silenced any fears I felt when she kissed me and I fell even further for the one who knew the worst of me but loved me anyways.

**AN: Accuracy as far as quotes (and possibly chronological events) goes is nonexistant due to the fact that my copy of the book has chosen now as the best time to play hide and go seek. Either way, please read, enjoy, and review! Any quote ideas just post as a review and I will get to them ASAP. **


	2. I Cannot Live With You

Chapter 2: I Cannot Live With You

_"__I cannot live with You –_

_It would be life –_

_And Life is over there –_

_Behind the shelf_

_The Sexton keeps the Key to –_

_Putting up_

_Our life – His Porcelain –_

_Like a cup –_

_Discarded of the Housewife – _

_Quaint – or Broke –_

_A newer Sevres pleases –_

_Old Ones crack –"_

- Emily Dickinson "I cannot live with you"

I was the only one still here. Everyone else had let go and gone on leaving only me; a mere shadow, a shade, of what, who, I used to be. No one remained to hold them back; no emotional ties remained for my fellow specters, my fellow ghosts. one tie remained for me, one tie partnered with a million adjacent filaments that stretched between us. That tie had two names: one given and one chosen. But to me, he was more than either; he is mine; was mine. Those blue-black eyes, the hooked nose, the tan skin, the tattoos that adorned his back and hand and hid the literal and physical scars both ghosts and living had left. All of that was who he was more so than any name. He is more than a name. A name that is alone.

Floating behind me, I recalled seeing the tips of his tattoo peeking out from under the collars of his black jackets all the times that I'd followed close behind him. My footprints had been half the size of his; still are but they no longer left marks nor touched the ground. He's older now, a mere two years have passed but he looks as though it has been a decade since my fingers caressed his angular jaw line and teased a smile from his lips. New scars have joined those that were paint brushed on his tan skin by an unseen hand, mine; the very same invisible one that currently clutched at my transparent arm. He never said it aloud to any of his fellow survivors but I knew, know, it was, is, my fault. He'd become increasingly more of a risk-taker after my transition between worlds; just like I'd been when my parents left his world for the next.

"Tobias?" I whispered, praying that he'd hear me this time; praying that he would turn around and accuse me. Accuse me of being a coward, for dying for no reason (he was the reason, he and the rest), and (worst of all) leaving him. But he didn't turn around. He never did. The definition of insanity is repeating the same thing over and over expecting different results; death made me crazy in a way that life had not. Sighing, I continued to float behind him as though I was, am, tethered to him physically and had, have, no other place to go. Figuratively speaking, I indeed was, am. His body was tight as a spring with tension and any who made the mistake of attempts at communication were met with a hardened glare and his mouth pressed in a thing line. The same lips I had once kissed passionately were barely able to form a smile anymore and it was **all my fault**. "Oh Tobias." My whole body sighed and I groaned inwardly as my barely transparent form faded into nothingness.

Invisibility is the curse of the dead, I decided as I gritted my teeth and strived for the meager amount of visibility allotted to those in my state of being. Even the transparency I had achieved before was better than being completely gone. Out of sight, out of mind. "Tris?" A strained, hoarse voice asked as I finally flickered back to light and looked up in surprise. No one had seen or hear me in so long that my voice sounded dusty to my own ears. Tobias looked at me hopefully. AT ME. "I'm here!" I cried as I reached for him with hands that could not touch, "I'm here Tobias!" To my surprise, I grew more visible and glowed brighter. He saw me! He could see me! His eyes widened as he unconsciously reached for me in turn. The wrinkles and stress lines disappeared from his worn face. The recent bruises and large scar faded until he looked like the eighteen year old I had fallen for eons ago; the same eighteen year old I had scarred and abandoned when I died.

Suddenly his eyes darkened and he jerked his hands back before clutching them over his ears and berating himself. "She'd not real. She's dead. She's dead and gone. Don't hope. Don't you dare hope. Hope makes the hurt worse. She left you." I was back in my Initiation, in front of that terrible knife throwing target and he stood there with no initiates as his side and no Eric ordering him to throw his words. His words that were like the individual daggers of the past flung at me. They didn't just nick my ear this time but dug in deep. Into my stomach, my chest, my arms, and legs, pinning me there as he continued with the final blow. "She left you." That dagger thudded into my unbeating hard and proceeded to twist and turn as it left as much damage, pain, and devastation in its path as it could. I felt like I was being broken apart; like I was being shot over and over again; like going through the death serum over and over and not beating it. Death is supposed to be the absence of pain; only I would be bad at being dead.

With those words, Tobias straightened his back painfully under the weight of all his aching fear, anger, and hurt. Turning sharply on his heel, he began marching towards his apartment tugging me along for the ride. Like a wind-up toy soldier, he forced one stiff leg in front of the other powered by the strength of his will power in the face of the emotional ache that tried to hold him back. Wearing his armor of brokenness, the aged face of wrinkles, bruises, stress lines, and that scar returned as the boy I knew hid behind the strength and stubbornness of the man that I had created. "I cannot live with you." I burst out, my voice causing him to pause mid-footfall and I quickly corrected myself, "Couldn't live with you." He began to move again and I floated in front of him in order to stop him as the rest tumbled out in a rush, "It would be life." It wasn't meant to be, but it was a joke, an ironic moment when the ghost spoke of life. "I wanted life." I added unnecessarily as my hands moved forwards of their own accord and rested just above his shoulders.

Tobias scoffed and rubbed the bridge of his nose in a habit connected with disbelief. "I must be going insane." With that he walked right through me and I felt a chill rush through my phantom form. Ghosts weren't supposed to be chilled, the living were. That was privilege meant for them. Turning back around once we reached his appartment door, Tobias gave me a hurt look as he whispered "You still chose death." His accusation hurt but less so this time around as I recovered quickly and shook my head at him as he turned back around and walked through the door. Rather than slam it in my face, he held it open; old habits die hard. "I chose life, not mine but yours." His eyes looked at the ground as I spoke and he closed the door with a sharp click when I finished and he gathered his thoughts.

"But your life is over there, behind the shelf where you live in a box without a voice. A box that I cannot let go of. I let an Abnegation priest keep the key to you and he put you there beside a cup. A broken cup." He paused after pointing out the locked cabinet and looked me in the eyes forcing me to fall into their open depths. I was lost again in those eyes, the eyes of my ex-lover, my still lover. "The broken cup is me. A new one would please you but old ones break and the glue doesn't work anymore."

Neither would tape, plaster, or all the king's horses and all the king's men. But I didn't say that, instead I looked him back in the eyes and spoke the truth. "I too am broken; we're both broken beyond repair. But two broken parts can make a whole." I paused though I didn't, don't, need the breath like he does. Being around him made me feel alive again and gave me the habits of the living. So even though I didn't need to, I paused for the nonexistent breath. In the meantime, Tobias interrupted me. "But you're dead." Cue the second round of daggers here. "The dead cannot fix the living." No matter how much I wanted to fight it, he was right. Completely and utterly right. "You're just a ghost. My past. Trying to fix my future." How does one respond to that? There are no words in this language of his or the unspoken one of the dead that sometimes visits me in my home. He is still my home.

Leaning forward, I placed, place, a hand on his cheek and even as my hand went through his stubbly chin, he leaned into the touch and smile slightly. It had been so long since he'd smiled that I worried that he had forgotten how. That smile was just the beginning of the healing process and though I knew that, it filled me an inexplicable joy. "Maybe you can." Tobias whispered breaking my thought tendrils at the source with the sound of his voice. He had paused as he attempted to steady his voice. His breathing had become irregular and I could hear his heart beat as it ran rampant at the light touch of the ghost of his lover, present tense. Time never felt as real for a ghost like me until that moment when nothing was a mix of conflicting past and present tenses but instead was all in the present. I missed such mortal things, I realized as my pulse which had used to quicken in response and my heart which used to beat in time with his remained silent. Being dead is not as releasing as they claim in to be. Leaning close I floated my lips just beside his check and leaned forward enough so that he might feel them go through him. It was the closest to a kiss I could come but it was enough for me and it clearly was for him as he took a deep shaky breath in response and his smile became an outright grin, "Maybe we can be fixed by our ghosts after all."

**Sorry it was so sad but I hope you enjoy it still! Please read, and review! Remember more reviews make updates easier and faster for this busy author :)**


	3. The Guy Who Lives in His Stories

Chapter 3: The Guy Who Lives in His Stories

_"__I just worry about you. I don't want you to be the guy _

_who lives in his stories. Life only moves forward."_

_-_ Tracy Mosby ("How I Met Your Mother")

"Uncle Toby!" A little female voice hollered as the pounding of tiny footsteps echoed down the hall leading to his office. Suddenly the elderly man truly regretted getting the hearing aids implanted in his ears as the echoing got closer. Never again would he listen to any ex-Erudite's advice about getting "elderly assistance", regardless of whether or not they were related to Will. Will, the boy with the bright green eyes, blonde eyes, and the crease between his eyebrows that appeared whenever he concentrated. He concentrated a lot during Initiation- no, he couldn't think about Will and Initiation because that led to thoughts of Her. The only thing that everything came back to was Her, always. But now the kids were coming and he had to focus on that and not the past he still lived in despite his insistence otherwise.

Compartmentalizing any thoughts of either of the two, the "retired" politician plastered on a smile at the exact moment the two children tumbled through the doorway. "Uncle Toby!" The boy yelled as he struggled to his feet first and ran around the table to where the eighty year old painfully pulled himself up into a standing position and then dropped to his one hydraulic knee to give the boy a hug. He had lost that leg during one of the various conflicts between Chicago and one of the nearby cities. A sniper had set his sights on Zeke, as in his best friend with the pregnant semi-paralyzed wife* at home, and rather than let him die, the man had knocked him out of the way. Doing so meant getting the bullet meant for Zeke's heart in his leg when the sniper miscalculated and fired too low. When he was bleeding out in the hospital and delusional from infection, She had returned to him and offered a way out. But he couldn't take it, not after facing death like that, and She knew that, had always known that. It was because of that war, the one with the forgotten name, that he had ceased to be so reckless with his life, because he had faced death there and knew that it was not his time; that he was not going to allow himself to go to Her just yet. Focusing back on the confused looking boy, the man finally answered him, "What's up James?"

The boy giggled at the elderly man's funny way of talking, colloquial language had moved on a lot since his own childhood. "Me!" Screeched the girl as she leapt up on to his shoulders and the man nearly fell over at the sudden weight on his back. "Resa!" He yelped in response as he worked hard to regain his balance and his arthritic joints screamed in protest. So much for the Erudite pills helping THAT issue out while his ears, on the other hand, hurt because they worked so well. "Gotcha!" She replied with a cheeky grin as she ran around from behind him and halted right in front of him. Suppressing a smile, he faked a glare and which was met with Resa and James' laughter; clearly his days of being a scary initiate instructor were long gone if a nine year old and a seven year old found his glare to be funny.

"Come with us!" Resa yelled with excitement filling her voice and he made the mistake of looking down into her eyes, those eyes that looked an improbable lot like Hers. Those eyes that demanded his attention and absolutely glowed with energy whenever she came alive. It was always when he was most afraid that she came alive, fear seemed to wake her up. "Yes, come on Uncle Toby!" Her brother echoed as they both grabbed one of his hands and began tugging him towards the door and distracting him from the memory. Rather than resist, he followed willingly only pausing to yell back to the politician that he now worked under. "Tyler! I'll be back in a few! Resa and James need me for a bit."

The woman with the hip length jet black hair pulled up in a braided bun poked her head out of her much larger office and shook her head at her mentor with his dark blue eyes magnified behind the reading glasses he, more often than not, forgot to take off. Closing her own purple eyes, she mentally photographed this image of the great man with his glasses, Abnegation-buzzed snow white hair, the scars that visibly crossed his right cheek, the worry and stress wrinkles that were carved from the years and the sadness into his face, the hydraulic limb, and the small tattoo of the bird that he had gotten on top of his hand a few weeks after losing Her. To this day, Tyler could only guess who the ambiguous Her was in this old man's past but since her grandfathers, George and Amar, trusted him so she did to. "Just take off the day Mr. Heaton."

Smirking despite himself, the elderly man recalled the day he had changed his name because he, least of all, wanted to be a constant reminder of his parents Marcus and Evelyn. "For the last time, call me Toby." It felt final the way he said that, even though he said it every time she called him by his last name, Tyler actually complied this time and gave him a smile that met her oddly colored Divergent eyes. "Enjoy your day off Toby." Nodding to himself more so than her, he allowed Jamie and Resa to continue pulling him down the hall and, with a final perplexed look, Tyler returned to her own work.

"Where exactly are we going?" He finally asked the two children and they just laughed. Groaning to himself, the senior citizen allowed himself to be pulled out of the building and along the roads towards an unfamiliar sector of the city. Taking into account that the elderly man knew this city backwards and forwards, he was quick to realize that they were taking him to a part of the city he had been avoiding, a part that was only associated with Her. "Close your lashes!" Resa ordered and he gave her a perplexed look as she rolled her eyes. "She means eyes Uncle Toby." Jamie interjected and the man nodded before closing them, his trust levels had grown immensely since leaving the Dauntless compound and living on his own for the past sixty years or so. That was an unexplainable correlation now that he looked back on it but it was the truth and, when it came to him, the truth was nearly always unexplainable.

Their hands were warm, small, and smooth in his worn and calloused ones, just like Hers were, had been. Time blurred when you lived through as much as he; especially when the stories intertwined themselves in his daily life and sometimes he forgot whether or not she was really here or if it was all in his head. Moving one foot forward cautiously after the other, it was not long until he heard Jamie yell, "Open your lashes!"

Cautiously, he opened one dark blue eye and had to withhold a gasp as the other flew open in surprise. He was staring at a steel statue of Her; the proportions were Her, the angles and the expression of mild fear hidden behind the determined look in Her eyes. A gun was clenched tightly in both Her hands while a knife hung from Her narrow hips. The man remembered how those hips had been so tiny under his hands, how tiny She was but also how brave, how fearless. "Uncle Toby!" Resa screamed to get his attention and he glanced down at her in surprise as she ended the chain of memories.

Once his eyes had unfocused on the stature of Her, he recognized the statue of those around her: Christina, Uriah, the teen Four, Tori, Lynn, Zeke, Shauna, and Marlene. This must be the Dauntless area of the garden, he realized as he turned and saw the figures of his friends and the heroes of Amity, Candor, Abnegation, and Erudite respectively. "Will you tell me about them?" Jamie asked pulling the man to a nearby black bench. "Us, tell us." Resa corrected him as she skipped alongside and plopped down beside the eighty year old on the opposite side of her brother. Suddenly Tris' voice popped into his head, "I worry about you," She whispered from beyond the grave, "I don't want you to be the man who lives in his stories. Life only moves forward."

"Why would you think I'd know anything about them?" The elderly man asked as he tried desperately to keep the fear and sadness out of his voice; he knew far more than he was willing to let on but Tris was right, he couldn't live in the stories anymore. He had to wake up and move on. "Grandmum told me." Resa interjected and the man sighed, her grandmum had most definitely inherited Christina's aptitude for telling the truth, even when it was others' truths. "She said that you once were Dauntless, that you were a kid when this all happened but you knew her." Resa pointed at the statue of Her, "that girl saved you or something or another. Plus great-grandmum's over there too, she's the one with the gun pointed downwards behind the girl you knew."

Maybe just one story wouldn't hurt; he rationalized as he looked down at their expectant faces and pulled off the glasses in order to rub his temples thoughtfully. Placing them in his pocket carefully, he grinned as he began the tale of the capture the flag game the year that She had joined Dauntless' ranks. "Settle back, this will be awhile. Remembering takes time for old men like me, especially when the memories are as old as these. Listen closely and don't judge us too harshly, heroes are humans too and humans make mistakes."

"Yes," Tris concurred as she watched him get lost in the world of the past and he remained in that sadness that had entrapped him for the past sixty years. "Humans do make mistakes, my love."

**Sorry for the long time between updates! This year's exam schedule made writing nearly impossible. Please read, enjoy, and review!**


	4. Status Quo

Chapter 4: Status Quo

_"__The status quo sucks" _

– George Carlin

He was unremarkable in every sense of the word. A boy in blue with pale hair, light freckles, and washed out green eyes. She was what anyone expected. Tall, slender of build, dark, hair, and deep brown eyes that beheld the world in black or white. He understood the gray of it all. She epitomized remarkable strength and courage. They were the opposite of the status quo of their respective factions and they both hated it.

"William!" His faded celery green eyes refocused on the teacher in front of him and in seconds he realized the folly of his inattention in class. Forcing his gaze downwards at his book and the bottom of his Erudite blue tunic, the unremarkable boy pretended that he was ashamed of not being interested in studying. "Do you have anything to say for yourself William?"

The boy hadn't meant to speak up and at age fifteen should know better by now than to break the definition of normalcy for Erudite but something inside him made him do it anyways. "It's Will."

His teacher glared down at him from under her horn-rimmed spectacles and her mouth quickly formed a thin line. "What did you say?" Ms. Peterson spat as she tapped her #2 pencil on his knuckles before removing her calculator, this was advanced math after all, and smacking it on the boy's desk. "Keep in mind that the probability of your answer being satisfactory is less than 1%." The whole class tittered away at that, that's what happens when you get a bunch of Erudite blues all in one classroom and a math joke is made. Erudite blue minus two, there was a girl in black and white and a boy in gray too. In all reality, the Candor girl was only in there because she was finishing a test for another math class and there were a few Amity kids and one Dauntless but they were out of class for a myriad of reasons. At the time, the Abnegation boy laughed rather selfishly at the joke but the Candor girl did not.

In the meantime, Will continued to stare down at his lap in real embarrassment and mock shame of his inattention. "I'm sorry Ms. Peterson." He mumbled sticking to the status quo expectations for all Erudite. Not that he belonged there; in fact he wondered if he'd ever belong anywhere due to the fact that he didn't fit in with his own faction. Learning was great and all but there was only so much a brain can learn before it reaches the extent of its patience.

"Is he lying?" Ms. Peterson barked the question as she whirled around to glare at the Candor girl who had been staring at him and now was quite observantly taking in the details of a rather uncomplicated math problem on the test in front of her. "Christina!" The math teacher roared her name and the Candor girl sat up straight in mock surprise. Her muddy brown eyes widened making the whites of her eyes stand out light against her caramel skin as she feigned shock, this made her a very good liar if she could even control her body language. This alone was odd because she was from the truth-telling faction, she shouldn't be a good liar in any circumstance. With the girl's attention fully on her, Ms. Peterson stabbed the eraser end of the pencil into the girl's sternum causing her to lean backwards so fast her plastic chair creaked in annoyance in response. Now this was just over the top, Will decided, but Ms. Peterson wouldn't know any better, she hadn't been forced to take psychology in years and wouldn't recognize the display rules and micro-expressions that this girl, Christina, was allowing to slip through her act. "Me?" Candor girl asked which earned Ms. Peterson tapping her forehead with the calculator in exasperation and she rolled her eyes behind the glasses all Erudite wore. Speaking of glasses, he was surprised that he had not been yelled out earlier for not wearing his. Ms. Peterson still didn't care and instead was giving Candor girl a calculated glare as she finally managed to spit out her response, "No the other human lie detector in the room, yes you!"

His heart skipped a beat; he was lying. Will was not sorry for not paying attention in class in the least. What he was sorry for was being born into a faction focused on intellect when he cared about anything but. Seconds after thinking that, his stomach twisted into knots of shame as he thought of his family and he looked down at his lap in self disgust; it was not his mom or dad or his sister Cara who was to blame for his inability to fit in to the faction that they were born for. Once he had gotten over his shame enough to look up at his classmates, he searched the room desperately looking for her face. Suddenly he found himself realizing why eye contact was called contact when her dark chocolate browns found his pastel greens. As he tried to control his slightly racing heart, his brain continued to process the situation and kept asking, "Will she tell? Will she tell? Will she tell?"

Widening his eyes and raising his eyebrows he pleaded with her from behind Ms. Peterson's rather generous person and his eyes widened in fear. The girl from Candor looked at him closely as though she was memorizing every detail of his facial structure and reading him like one might read any book for deeper literary meaning. No Candor looked at anyone like that, they saw the world as simply being black and white but to look for deeper meaning revealed the gray. Not the gray of Abnegation, that gray was of selfless sacrifice of lacking in color, but rather the gray that was neither black and white and didn't fit in with truth or lie because it was neither one nor the other. It was beyond surface value.

That was how she was looking at him, no through him, and seeing beyond his surface value. This means that she knew that he was not Erudite to the core, that he would rather band his head against a wall than learn one more mathematics problem. "He has a name." Was all she said and Ms. Peterson leaned closer with a glare and a calculator pointed like an armed weapon at the girl's caramel unmoving nose. There was no leaning back, no outward motion of fear of the huge blonde woman threatening her with a calculator. He might want to take lessons from this much more courageous girl. "What did you say Candor?" She asked in a low terrifying voice that was making his body want to shake with fear from across the room. Instead he forced his spine to remain straight learning from the Candor girl's example. No matter the verdict that this girl gave Ms. Peterson he was going to take it as bravely as she took Ms. Peterson's anger and malice in check.

"He has a name and its Will." At those words, his heart leapt in his chest with respect for this skinny caramel skinned girl from Candor. Ms. Peterson was not of the same mindset. Instead her face grew a scarlet red and her thin blonde hair stood on end as she positively trembled with her rage at being undermined. One shiver sent her fake spectacles falling to the rosy red end of her round nose and then crashed to the floor in the breaking of the plastic lenses and the faux wire rims. Following the glasses, the calculator toppled to the floor as well as her tiny hands clenched into fists before she made an enraged squealing noise before lunging forward and grabbing the Candor girl's ear and dragging her across the room to his desk. Once there, Will was paralyzed with fear as the small pudgy woman threw her arm towards him and grasped his ear tightly in her tiny hands with those chubby fingers that were stronger than expected from gripping chalk sticks. Pulling him from his desk and tossing them out the door and into the hallway while screeching at the top of her lungs, "Principals office. NOW!"

Both fell on their butts and then were thrust tumbling forwards as the metal door slammed against their prone blue-clad and black/white-clad backs. Yelping they jumped forward and looked at each other before busting out with laughter. The sounds of Ms. Peterson wheezing from the exercise and her yelling from the other sides of the door only fueled the fire of their chortling. "Did you see her face?" He finally managed to choke out after a minute or two and she continued laughing as she nodded furiously. After she had calmed enough to breath and so had he, she rolled forward and into a standing position in one smooth motion before turning around and offering him a hand up with a real smile. "Alright Will, let's go see the principal. I've already finished my test anyhow and your Erudite faction mates aren't the kind of company that I prefer to keep. Ditto to that Stiff boy."

"Mine either. Thank you um…Christina, right?" He replied as he took her hand and they shook it Dauntless style. Neither of them could quite understand the reason behind this as it was neither of their traditional faction behavior but they didn't care. It felt like the right thing to do at this time. The status quo had been broken already and sucked from the onset as far as they were concerned. "Right, nice to meet you Will." Finally, the lanky boy with the celery green eyes allowed her to pull him up and the too stood face to face with their hands still clasped together before they let go simultaneously as they realized how awkward this contact was. "The pleasure is all mine."

**Please enjoy and review! I know this isn't Tris/Four but the other characters deserve as much of a voice as they do. Keep in mind that reviews make for happier writers and if any readers are looking for a specific quote and/or pairing then please, Please, PLEASE review! Happy trails!**


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